


Oops

by orphan_account



Category: COD zombies, Call of Duty
Genre: Character banter, Profanity, Really really really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dempsey gets his arm stuck in the vending machine. Edward offers to cut it off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oops

**Author's Note:**

> [Hey danktempsey, I finished the thing!]
> 
> Just a quickie to make sure I can still do fanfic.
> 
> I might update/elaborate on it sometime in the future, I have no idea. 
> 
> I wish i would have made this NiRi instead, so I could have titled it 'Caught RED-Handed' haha bc nikolai is a communist and i'm not funny

      Jugg.  
      Even if it was just irradiated eggnog left to spoil in an old vending machine, it _wasn’t_ a screaming, bleeding, brain-eating maggot sack. Anything that wasn’t a screaming, bleeding, eternally goose-stepping maggot sack was fine by him.  
      But something had made the mistake of crawling up into the chute and stopping _The_ Tank Dempsey from getting the drink he paid “twenty-five-hundred _fuckin_ ’ points” for, and it was  _The_ Tank Dempsey who had made the mistake of trying to pull the damn thing out. He now sat in the dirt in front of the machine, elbow-deep in cobwebs, rat droppings, and what he hoped was only mold.  
      “Oh mein Gott.”  
      “Shut the fuck up, Dicktofen.”  
      “Oh mein _Gott.”_ Edward giggled and reached for his Bowie knife to pull out of its holster. “Do you need me to cut it off, Dempsey?” He waved his knife. “I can’t guarantee speediness, but you’ll definitely be free.” Tank hesitated, wiggling his arm a little first.    
      “...No.”  
      “Are you sure? I can knock you unconscious beforehand, if you would like.”  
      “Shove it up your ass, Reichtofen. You’re not gonna cut my fucking arm off.”  
      Edward placed his fists on his hips and tutted down at his teammate. “You are really in no position to reject my help, you know. But I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try the boring way first, just in case you aren’t a starfish. Aha.”

-

      Edward Richtofen, elbow-deep in cobwebs, rat droppings, and what he hoped was coagulated blood, sat in the dirt next to Tank Dempsey, whose arm had met a similar fate.  
     “You know, Dempsey,” he started, scooting over as far as possible without getting into ‘I’m gonna tell you one more time, Kraut’ territory. His hand went further. “This doesn’t have to be so bad.” His fingers rested on Dempsey’s thigh, inching their way inward. “We could always make good use of our time here tog--”  
      “Doc’.”  
      “Hm?”  
      “That amputation idea of yours doesn’t seem too bad about now.”

 


End file.
